Counting blessings has always been and continues to be one of the hardest things for people to do. I think we get caught up in the race of life and forget that instead of having much to complain about, we have much to be grateful for. With the stresses of work, home, finances, and whatever else we can think up, we forget that we have been given so much and asked so little in return. Lately, I've spent more time worried about perfecting my lesson plans and the quickly approaching state assessments than I have been thanking God for the opportunity to be a huge part of the lives of some amazingly good-hearted children. The events of last week should not have to happen for us to realize how truly blessed we are. But, sadly, that's the way our human nature works. We have to be given a reality check every now and then. My over-anxieties and small stresses evaporated as soon as the news set in. I won't be spending much time researching the events of Friday. The reasons why and how are very much beyond us. While praying for those who lost theirs on Friday, I am counting the blessings before me, all 53 of them, filling my classroom with laughs and talk of Christmas this morning.
Merry Christmas!
Monday, December 17, 2012
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Don't Take It Personal
Well, it's about that time again. Before the holidays carry me away from writing altogether, I figured now would be as good of a time as any to update my very small cache of posts. I'm really kicking myself right now for not doing this last week when I felt really inspired to write about all the small but new revelations I was uncovering about teaching, which also happened to be pretty telling of life as well. Now its all gone, I have no idea where those brief moments of wisdom went. They came and left just about as quick as my lunch break. I did manage to hold onto one major piece of inspiration that came to me over the past month and that is something I'm sure we all hear at some point or another of our lives. However cliche and overused, it does ring very true at times that really beg this of us. So here it is. My real insightful motto for the past month..."Don't take this personal."
Pretty deep huh? Yep, that's what I spent my valuable lunch time coming up with. Anyway, like I said, although cliche, it does ring true at times in which we really need to remind ourselves to do such a thing. Times when you've spent twenty good, long minutes explaining "acceleration" to your fifth graders and they all still look at you as if you're asking them to locate the Lost Ark. Times when you've reviewed for their test, used practically the same questions, the same format, and gone to extremes to make sure the questions are written just right for those little ten year old minds, and you still have two earn F's. Times when you have a kid, whom you know is more than capable, continue to meet the bare minimum just because he can, despite what you say or do not say to him about how he's "cheating himself." I used to take all of this personally. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't still take some of it personally.
There are days where I still feel that my students' achievements and lack of achievement is due to my ability as their teacher, which is true, but I realize now, it is to an extent. Their actions in my class may not always reflect their potential and their grades may not always reflect their intelligence. But, at the end of each day, when I close my classroom door, if I can be sure they've gone home having learned at least one new thing about math, science, or just life in general, then I can take those more trying times with a grain of salt and know that it's not always something I can do better. It isn't always something that I missed or didn't do well enough, sometimes there isn't even a good answer for why it didn't work, it just didn't. And instead of staring at your grade book (or your life, if we're speaking in metaphors here) and trying to make sense of it all, stop staring, close the book, and just tell yourself "Don't take this personally. Move forward. Keep trying."
Very new attitude for me. Being a perfectionist, I've spent most of my life feeling like I could have perfected a situation better, given more time or more information or whatever. But I'm realizing that all this time I've spent analyzing the past from every possible angle, I've cheated myself of the present. I'm learning that a good part of being a well-rounded person is to do what you can and move on. Let the other stuff take care of itself. Plus, it just feels good. I'm liking the freedom it gives me. I don't second guess myself every five seconds anymore. And the energy I used thinking about the past, now goes to my present, where it belongs.
In honor of some of my beloved 90's music and inspired by this post:
Pretty deep huh? Yep, that's what I spent my valuable lunch time coming up with. Anyway, like I said, although cliche, it does ring true at times in which we really need to remind ourselves to do such a thing. Times when you've spent twenty good, long minutes explaining "acceleration" to your fifth graders and they all still look at you as if you're asking them to locate the Lost Ark. Times when you've reviewed for their test, used practically the same questions, the same format, and gone to extremes to make sure the questions are written just right for those little ten year old minds, and you still have two earn F's. Times when you have a kid, whom you know is more than capable, continue to meet the bare minimum just because he can, despite what you say or do not say to him about how he's "cheating himself." I used to take all of this personally. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't still take some of it personally.
There are days where I still feel that my students' achievements and lack of achievement is due to my ability as their teacher, which is true, but I realize now, it is to an extent. Their actions in my class may not always reflect their potential and their grades may not always reflect their intelligence. But, at the end of each day, when I close my classroom door, if I can be sure they've gone home having learned at least one new thing about math, science, or just life in general, then I can take those more trying times with a grain of salt and know that it's not always something I can do better. It isn't always something that I missed or didn't do well enough, sometimes there isn't even a good answer for why it didn't work, it just didn't. And instead of staring at your grade book (or your life, if we're speaking in metaphors here) and trying to make sense of it all, stop staring, close the book, and just tell yourself "Don't take this personally. Move forward. Keep trying."
Very new attitude for me. Being a perfectionist, I've spent most of my life feeling like I could have perfected a situation better, given more time or more information or whatever. But I'm realizing that all this time I've spent analyzing the past from every possible angle, I've cheated myself of the present. I'm learning that a good part of being a well-rounded person is to do what you can and move on. Let the other stuff take care of itself. Plus, it just feels good. I'm liking the freedom it gives me. I don't second guess myself every five seconds anymore. And the energy I used thinking about the past, now goes to my present, where it belongs.
In honor of some of my beloved 90's music and inspired by this post:
Oh and Happy Thanksgiving :)
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Lessons Learned
I told myself I was going to finally set aside time to update my blog tonight. I actually hesitated toward the idea not because I didn't want to update, but because I knew if I got on my laptop I'd end up doing work for school and my attempt to find a release for my thoughts would quickly become a cause for more to start running through my head. I know myself too well, because I logged onto my computer at 7:10 and it's now 8:01 pm, I spent the last 49 minutes sending parent emails. BUT, I'm here now, breathing and typing, and that's all that matters. I'm actually having a bit of trouble lighting my fire on what to blog about this evening. Which is a surprise, with all that's been happening in my life lately, I should have plenty of fuel for the fire. Needless to say, I'm pretty tired (really, truly tired) at the end of the day. I'm not complaining by any means. I actually find fulfillment in being tired, it means I gave today what I had to give. Or it could just mean that I'm a 22 year old first year teacher who's trying to figure out how to be a good role model, compassionate mentor, and an effective educator all at once, while still managing to squeeze in a side of a personal life. I find myself sitting and staring a lot. My plan time lately has mostly consisted of sitting at my desk, soaking in the silence, and staring into space. So, if my post is a little scattered, boring, or just annoying, it's because I'm not able to organize my thoughts well enough for this to be entertaining.
Monday I felt on top of the world. I used my plan/down time so efficiently that I had the entire week planned by the time school dismissed. Tuesday was a Tuesday, my kids did really well in grasping the new concepts in math (estimating decimals and whole numbers). And today (Wednesday), was really that hump you have to pull yourself over to get through the rest of the week. I'm not sure why today was so hard. Actually, that's a lie. I do know why. At some point during the day, I stopped listening to myself and my own teaching style (although barely existent at this point in my career) and started comparing what I was doing in my classroom with what a colleague of mine was doing in her own. We were discussing different strategies I could start using in my teaching. They were great pieces of advice. But, by no fault of my colleague's, I began to question whether what I was doing was good enough for my kids. It was a strange moment of inspiration and disappointment. While I was uncovering new ideas and resources, I was quickly becoming aware of how much I didn't know and it freaked me out. I suddenly looked at my plans for the rest of the week and wanted to erase them all (always plan in pencil) thinking I was headed in the entirely wrong direction. I spent the rest of the day in my perfectionist head analyzing my every teacher move.
The days I spend with my kids are the best days. The days I spend with myself are the hardest. If I stay stuck in my mind for too long, I forget what this is all really about. I forget about them and what they mean to me. I have to remind myself to stay in the moment and out of my head. Chalk it up to another lesson learned. I'll store it for what tomorrow holds for me. I'm really not quite sure how I'm still writing coherently at this point, I apologize for such an uneventful post. But, in other exciting news, one of my students has started his own detective business and has offered to solve any mystery (no case too small for this guy) for 25 cents. He's complained of a lack of clients, so if you know any good mysteries that need solving, be sure to let me know.
Here's a list of some of my major lessons learned in just the first month of teaching:
1. "[Teachin's] like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna' get."
2. "Take it every 15 minutes at a time," -My veteran teacher friend (Some days this is subject to change to every 5 or 2 minutes at a time).
3. Don't reinvent the wheel. (beg, borrow, and steal resources)
5. Be patient with yourself.
6. Forgive yourself for not being everything you expected yourself to be.
7. Laugh at the ridiculousness. (Every now and then, I have to stop and laugh at what my kids are doing when they think I'm not watching).
8. Find a release. (Blogging, working out, talking with your best friend, good music, window shopping, are a few of my favorites)
9. Treat yourself or let yourself be treated. (buy yourself something nice or let someone take you to dinner, it does more for you than you expect)
10. Those days where you feel like you have so much to do, but you can't concentrate long enough to get anything done are the days that you need to do nothing, go home, pour yourself a glass of wine, and turn on Norah Jones. The work will be there tomorrow, your sanity won't.
And my sanity is on its way out, so I'm on my way to bed. Goodnight :)
Monday I felt on top of the world. I used my plan/down time so efficiently that I had the entire week planned by the time school dismissed. Tuesday was a Tuesday, my kids did really well in grasping the new concepts in math (estimating decimals and whole numbers). And today (Wednesday), was really that hump you have to pull yourself over to get through the rest of the week. I'm not sure why today was so hard. Actually, that's a lie. I do know why. At some point during the day, I stopped listening to myself and my own teaching style (although barely existent at this point in my career) and started comparing what I was doing in my classroom with what a colleague of mine was doing in her own. We were discussing different strategies I could start using in my teaching. They were great pieces of advice. But, by no fault of my colleague's, I began to question whether what I was doing was good enough for my kids. It was a strange moment of inspiration and disappointment. While I was uncovering new ideas and resources, I was quickly becoming aware of how much I didn't know and it freaked me out. I suddenly looked at my plans for the rest of the week and wanted to erase them all (always plan in pencil) thinking I was headed in the entirely wrong direction. I spent the rest of the day in my perfectionist head analyzing my every teacher move.
The days I spend with my kids are the best days. The days I spend with myself are the hardest. If I stay stuck in my mind for too long, I forget what this is all really about. I forget about them and what they mean to me. I have to remind myself to stay in the moment and out of my head. Chalk it up to another lesson learned. I'll store it for what tomorrow holds for me. I'm really not quite sure how I'm still writing coherently at this point, I apologize for such an uneventful post. But, in other exciting news, one of my students has started his own detective business and has offered to solve any mystery (no case too small for this guy) for 25 cents. He's complained of a lack of clients, so if you know any good mysteries that need solving, be sure to let me know.
Here's a list of some of my major lessons learned in just the first month of teaching:
1. "[Teachin's] like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna' get."
2. "Take it every 15 minutes at a time," -My veteran teacher friend (Some days this is subject to change to every 5 or 2 minutes at a time).
3. Don't reinvent the wheel. (beg, borrow, and steal resources)
5. Be patient with yourself.
6. Forgive yourself for not being everything you expected yourself to be.
7. Laugh at the ridiculousness. (Every now and then, I have to stop and laugh at what my kids are doing when they think I'm not watching).
8. Find a release. (Blogging, working out, talking with your best friend, good music, window shopping, are a few of my favorites)
9. Treat yourself or let yourself be treated. (buy yourself something nice or let someone take you to dinner, it does more for you than you expect)
10. Those days where you feel like you have so much to do, but you can't concentrate long enough to get anything done are the days that you need to do nothing, go home, pour yourself a glass of wine, and turn on Norah Jones. The work will be there tomorrow, your sanity won't.
And my sanity is on its way out, so I'm on my way to bed. Goodnight :)
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Finding Ms. Simpson
I have to be honest. I started this blog more for a sort of 'new teacher talk therapy' rather than attempting to be a brand new, over-ambitious teacher ready to share every nifty idea she's found on Pinterest. I admire them dearly and I am secretly hoping to turn into one of those bloggers; the ones that provide every fellow teacher with helpful resources and lesson ideas. But, for now, I have to accept that in my naivete and youth of teaching, I have no idea how I could begin to help other teachers with their lessons when I don't even have tomorrow's planned and it's 8:07 pm. I realize how this makes me look, but I have a good explanation. I promise. Today was my fifth day of teaching, real teaching (not student teaching or assisting or observing or whatever other hoop you have to jump through to get your education degree). So, I've been teaching for five whole days, in my own classroom, with my own students, and in the teaching position I acquired through my own hard work and dedication to finding a teaching job before graduation this past May. I apologize now for rambling, my exhaustion and numerous out of body experiences this week are mostly responsible for this, and I just drank a glass of wine. Anyway, today was my fifth day of teaching and needless to say numero cinco brought me to tears. After feeling almost entirely unsure of myself and my ability to teach these past two weeks, today really iced the cake. I had spent the entire weekend planning math and science lessons for my fifth graders and was ready to finally feel confident in what I was teaching and how I was going to teach it. But, the dear Lord had other plans for me. After placing the final touches on my science lesson during my planning period today, I was hopeful that I was organized enough for these physical science concepts to be communicated crystal clearly to my fresh-faced fifth graders. [Insert any expression related to "Boy was I wrong!"] Three of those 'out of body experiences' happened today while teaching this lesson. I'm not sure when it hit me that what I was saying was doing more bouncing around the walls of my halfway decorated classroom than it was registering in any of the brains of my fifth grade students. They all looked at me, helpless, thoroughly confused, and completely bored. My checks for understanding ("Get it?" "Do you understand?" "Are you with me?") were now being responded to with wide eyes and slumped shoulders. I stopped, smiled, and began crying on the inside. I'm sure any teacher (student, new, or veteran) have had this same experience. It's that moment when you no longer have any idea what you're saying. You're pacing back and forth, not because you're so enthralled with the text in front of you, but because you're hoping, on that journey from the front of the room to the back of the room, you'll have an epiphany and you'll suddenly know exactly how to get through to them, the bell will ring, and they will leave, having learned one more thing to prepare them for state assessments. Well that epiphany did not come and I resorted to telling them that whatever was confusing them should be forgotten until tomorrow when I revisit everything we just talked about. I do have a plan for tomorrow. I was being dramatic when I said I had no plans. My plan is to redo, or rather, undo and then redo what I attempted to do today. I'm learning. I realize this. So, if your child is my student please do not worry that they will not learn what they need to this year. They will. You have my word. I promise that they will not only learn what a fifth grader needs to know to be prepared for sixth grade, but they will learn what it means to be a good person; a person that respects others, shares, accepts, and, most importantly, loves. My love of teaching got me here and it will get me through. So, who knows what tomorrow will be like, but that's partly why I love this profession. And like my veteran fifth grade teammate said yesterday "No one can teach you how to teach, you have to find it for yourself."
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